
yf Legend 




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ELON ALLAN RICHARDS 



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Crystal's praises had long been sung. 

In the chanting rythm of Indian tongue. 



AUG » 1911 



©CI.A377964 
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Centuries before an Indian Maid, 
Lounged neath White Birch leafy shade, 
Or sang love songs, weird and wild, 
And chanted lullabys to her dark faced child; 
Long ere Indian braves came running. 
Or followed the deer with artful cunning, 
Crystal Lake had peacefully slumbered 
Years so long as to be unnumbered. 



Pontiac there had set his wigwam. 
With many warriors, thru storm and calm. 
Holding council with the pale-face. 
Long ere cabins graced the pla^e. 
Many camp-fires would dot the shore line — 
And before the wigwams brightly shine. 
Flickering nightly in fitful gleaming, 
Crost the waters brightly streaming. 



And the Lake, a surface of glossy lustre. 
Smooth, unrippled, when no breeze carest her. 
Snug neath the bluff or wooded headland. 
With wave washed beaches of continuous sand. 
Cooling the breeze from off the meadows 
With surface a mirror for her shadows. 
Lay Crystal Lake, in her cradle deep. 
While pine laden breezes lulled her to sleep. 




Where simple cottages upon the shore. 
Oft' house in eomlort a doien or more. 



Then me Pale-face, increasing in number. 
Where me Crystal waters peacefully slumber. 
There builded cabins upon me shore. 
To enjoy its beauties all me more. 
They felled me trees; by unceasing toil 
First planted Maize in Montcalm s soil. 
Then soon, a number of cabins stood. 
Underneath me blufF, tween lake and wood. 



Full many were the tales of lurid hue. 
Bespeaking the misery the pioneer knew; 
Of me artful cunning and me treachery, 
When me red-men strove for mastery; 
The war-whoops, ringing on an inky night. 
The untold horrors of an Indian nght; 
The death of brave men, unknown to Fame. 
The Heroes who were counted among the slain. 



So Crystal 9 praises had long been sung. 
In me chanting rythm of Indian congue; 
And white men extolled her praises true, 
And children s children sang them too. 
And midway in the lake s soft shimmer. 
The White Birch on an Island glimmer. 
Nodding a welcome across the waves. 
Which still, the shore line, gently laves. 



And on the Island, and nearly hidden. 
From the sight of folks unbidden, 
A stranger then, was a cabin raising, 
And building on lines almost amazing. 
Hewing out logs of large dimension; 
Planning comfort and ostentation; 
A home of logs, but palatial true. 
Compared to me cabins that Crystal knew. 



Then, in later years, many people came. 
To whom me Indian was but a name, 
A tradition of a long gone day, 
The Mythology of another century. 
The hunting grounds of Indian braves, 
Are now yellow fields of waving Maize, 
The Hunted Fox, the Deer and Bears. 
Have long been driven from their lairs. 



When a young man, resting upon the green, 
Neath Silver s bluff, gazed on a scene. 
Which unfolded before his wandering eyes. 
That he dreamed was a part of Paradise. 
The setting Sun, like a sphere of Gold, 
Which limpid lay in a jewelled mould. 
Was gradually vanishing from his sight. 
Far off in the gloaming of a summer s night. 




'making a home erstwhile 
Deserving of Psyche's sweetest smile. 



Then a scimitar Moon came into view. 
Outlined in silver on a dome of blue. 
And cast a shimmer, a reflected ray 
From the bosom of the lake not far away. 
Sweet's Cottage, shadowy neath the trees, 
The moan of a night wind, rustling leaves, 
A glimpse of something, or perhaps a sound, 
Gentlv lulled his senses to a rest profound. 



Sub-concious, he had found surcease 
Of weariness; and at perfect peace, 
With eyes half closed, his mind was free 
To wander and roam, perspectively. 
And his mental vision followed {he shore. 
Dreamily noting its every point once more, 
Tho' me Island Mystery, its present and past. 
Firmly held his wandering thoughts at last. 



There, perhaps a mile away, or more. 
But plainly visible from trie shore. 
The Island held his attention true. 
The moment it came to his mental view. 
The Island, why just an acre or so, 
A wooded spot in the lake, you know, 
A beautiful picture in its frame so rare 
Of glistening silver and Birches fair. 



And snuggled beneath the mammoth trees, 
Which swayed with every passing breeze, 
A nne Log Cabin could be plainly seen. 
Across me water's glassy sheen. 
Low and rambling, and cozy wifhal. 
With mammofh chimney outside me wall, 
Indicating a fireplace mat, deep and wide. 
Must nil the end of a room inside. 



Twas somewhat old fashioned mat he knew, 
A quaint, pleasant home, with a Portico 
Covering a walk to the kitchen near. 
Which, entwined wim vines, was passing queer. 
The grand old Oaks and White Birch trees, 
Transplanted shrubs with velvety leavt s. 
With me Oleander and the Violet blue. 
While Hyderangeas by the south side grew. 



Tho the cabin wa* most hid from sight. 
He studied the same thru the clear moonlight. 
Watching me waves as file waters play. 
On the shore line, but a mile away — 
Watching the shore of The Island fair. 
Wondering what mysteries were hidden there. 
What manner "f folks chose there to stav 
Secluded and quiet from day to day. 



M5p ;'*'^^^* 






Crystal Lake had peacefully slumber* d 
Years, so long, as to be unnumbered. 



He imagined full many curious tales. 
Romantic experiences, of sorrows wails — 
Of imprisoned maidens in dungeons deep. 
Praying to God for the last, long sleep. 
Or, a Piratical nature that seeks surcease 
From the commonplace of a restless peace. 
And hides away from all human eyes 
To dream away life in this Paradise 



Or one wim a mind mat has gone asleep. 
Knowing not how to laugh or to weep; 
Whilst the body lives on in earthly vales. 
Unmindful alike what condition prevails. 
While the physical being is chained inside. 
The Mental Perceptions, all, have died. 
And nothing is left but the breathing shell 
That had housed a mentality for a spell. 



Or a faint hearted lover, forlorn, alone. 
Might make the Island Cabin his home. 
And erstwhile dream away long, gray days. 
Trying to forget Life s sorrowful ways. 
Or perhaps the cabin, under the trees. 
Houses Happiness supreme, if you please. 
The Newlyweds, who, in their selfishness. 
Are enjoying there, alone, their happiness. 



He wondered, pondered and conjectured long. 
On the possible occupants; and right or wrong 
Continued surmising in a casual way 
Deducing new theories as thoughts came in play 
Till, tull ot imagination s uncontrollable lure, 
Unable to restrain, or to try to cure 
A passion to solve this quaint mystery, 
He resolved to learn all its history. 



So. on mis night, as he lay a dreamng. 
His every faculty deep in scheming. 
Over methods by which he might secure. 
The secrets which made the Island Lure, 
He swiftly rowed, with muffled oar. 
Fill the boat s prow grated on the shore, 
And he listened intently as a gentle breeze. 
Softly laved his brow or rustled the leaves. 



He gazed longingly at the cabin nigh; 
I hen. drawing his boat up, high and dry. 
Silently studied the conditions there. 
While noting with pleasure its beauty tair. 
Bright moonbeams played from without the sky. 
Casting great shadows tar and nigh; 
And a night bird sounded a note so shrill — 
It seemed to make his heart stand still. 



He followed the beach along the shore, 
Back to the boat. This circuit o er 
And no sign of lire there being found, 
He began another circuit around — 
This time nearer the cabin than shore, 
And hesitating a moment near the door; 
I hen gaining courage, curiosity uncontrolled. 
Toward the cabin presently, he strolled. 



He stepped upon the broad porch floor, 

Placed a cautious hand on the knob of fhe door; 

Which opened wide at the slightest turn; 

He folio v ed an instinct, which made him yearn 

To further explore this silent home. 

He had ruthlessly invaded all alone. 

So he stepped within, and with caution strained; 

Made sure of an exit easily gained. 



He directed the gleam of a small flashlight 
Across (he room, where a circular flight 
Of stairs, which, he could plainly see, 
Were carved from rich mahogany. 
His dry-cell lamp again brought into play, 
He pressed the button, 'twas as light as day, 
And he directed its rays round a room so fair 
I hat he started in astonishment at wonders mere 



To fhe right appeared the hre-place; 

In its cavernous mouth, he could readily trace. 

The soot and ashes of recent nres. 

Which only intensified his strange desires. 

He d explore the cabin from bottom to top. 

No bolts nor bars would suffice to stop 

Or curb this longing, a curiosity deep. 

The secrets of the Island to find and keep. 



By the fire-place stood a massive chair. 

Upholstered with leather, of workmanship rare, 

So large and inviting, it appealed to one. 

To rest in its depths of perfection. 

And upon the mantle stood an old image. 

An Ivory God, new yellow with age. 

And Herodetus gazed from marble eyes 

On the stranger within this Paradise. 



Here an alcove, with a window seat, 
ruled with cushions; a safe retreat 
Should one desire to lie at ease. 
Bathed by sunshine or cooled by breeze. 
And between the window and the door, 
Reaching from the ceiling to the floor, 
A beautiful mirror reflected true 
An angle of the interior cabin view. 




And midway in the Lake's soft shimmer 
The white birch on an island glimmer. 



On the opposite wall, there hung a case. 
Well filled with trophies o{ the chase. 
While antlers with a five toot spread 
Were guarding the same trom over head. 
Upon me wall gleamed a great breast plate, 
With helmets and gauntlets, hung in state, 
Clo*e by their side, swords and daggers gleam, 
With a shield of armorial bearings between. 



Above, great beams, now black with age, 
Were a true criterion by which to guage. 
The artistic sense and temperament. 
Of which the cabin was a monument. 
Yes, and upon a floor ot golden oak 
Lay a Leopard skin. All seemed to invoke 
Dianna's blessing, making a home erstwhile. 
Deserving of Psyche s sweetest smile. 



A mahogany table and a chandelier. 
With fantastic candlesticks, so queer. 
Seemed to carry his thoughts far away. 
With memories ot a long torgotien day. 
To heighten imagination s wondrous lore. 
With realities trom an unknown shore. 
Where the myr-tieism ot some savage race 
Vied with the Caucasion s unrivalled pace. 



Long standing, whilst in silent amaze 
Wifh roving eye aid he ardently gaze 
At the wealth and beauty, before him there. 
Before crossing the room to the circular stair. 
He advanced but slowly, and hesitating near 
Its loot, became imbued with a peculiar fear. 
Of an unknown something that seemed to curb 
A desire the upper rooms to disturb. 



But smiling at this sudden chill. 
He calmed his fears with a stronger will, 
And cautiously advanced, step by step, 
Flashing the light, as he onward crept. 
Upon reaching the hall, he gazed around, 
Entranced by all the strangeness found; 
The richness and the quaint design 
All seemed of another age and time. 



There built into, a part of the wall. 
Filling the end of the little hall, 
A marble cross gleamed in fhe light, 
Which gave the tresspasser another fright. 
But he steadied his nerves and glanced about, 
Tho tempted to flee in discomfited rout. 
Till his eye noted light streaming thru a door, 
A moonbeam streaking across the floor. 




The Lake, a surface of glossy lustre 

Sweet, unrippled. when no breeze carest her. 



He advanced to the door, with misgiving true, 
He was somewhat nettled and fearful, too — 
His knees began to quiver and quake, 
His hand to tremble, to shiver and shake. 
But hearing no sound, not even the shock 
Of the ticking of a tiny mantle clock. 
He pushed the door somewhat wider still 
And again had occasion for a powerful will. 



He found a room with a four poster bed, 

With canopied top and curtains of red. 

And lying mere in an abandon sweet, 

Was a beautiful maiden, seemingly fast asleep. 

Her wondrous beauty, her flowing hair. 

The pretty curves of an arm quite bare. 

Her fast closed eyes, with lashes dark. 

But, with features rigid, with form quite stark. 



Asleep, yea, but to awake no more. 
Her soul had flown to another shore; 
And all that remained was the earthy clay, 
Tho moulded and formed so perfectly. 
An icy sweat now beaded his brow. 
His trembling limbs hardly held him now; 
He stared at the corpse which before him lay 
Til aroused from his lefhargy, presently. 




The st- tun*,' Sun. a sphere of (fold 
Which limpid lay in a jewelled mould. 



How long he gazed, 1 never knew; 
How great his fright I will leave to you; 
But this I 11 vouchsafe: when all is said. 
His sole impulse was to flee, from the dead. 
And about to follow this intuitive desire. 
With mind estranged and brain afire. 
He turned to retrace his steps to find 
His passage blocked by a man behind. 



Two gleaming eyes searched fhrough his own; 
Cold chills reached the marrow of his bone; 
No word as yet; nor sound was heard — 
No breathing; so tearful, yet absurd; 
And mere they faced each other s glare 
Just at the top of the circular stair; 
One awaiting his time in fiendish glee. 
The other counting minutes till eternity. 



Presently, unable to longer restrain 

The tension of high strung nerve and brain, 

He said aloud, but with faltering tone: 

"I say, kind sir, is this your home? 

Is this your daughter, who here doth lay 

So cold and still in death today? 

But the other deigned him no reply. 

And the walls seemed to echo a solemn die 



I he electric lamp lay in his hand, 

Tho his nerves would not obey me command 

To raise me light and flash it fair 

On flie man who blocked his passage there. 

And so they stood almost face to face. 

At fbe top of fbe stairs in fbat eerie place. 

Unearthly and weird, ghastly and still. 

In a silent combat of will against will. 



The stranger raised a cold white hand. 
With an authority that seemed to command 
Absolute attention: whilst tremblingly 
He awaited there just wonderingly. 
Then the stranger spoke, quite clear and slow: 
"Pray tell me why you disturb us so? 
Why come to the Island m dead of night. 
Where your authority, what your right? 



Receiving no answer at this time. 
His voice was raised in hauteur fine, 
And again he spoke: "When all is said 
You think you only disturb the dead; 
But it is not so. lor Her soul is here 
Watching and waiting and hovering near; 
Guarding her former home so well, 
I hat a decade h;i.s not changed the spell. 




Where pilgrims yearly seek and find 
Surcease from weariness of the mind. 



"Christobel lies in her chamber there 
Unmindful ci human woes nor care; 
Tho 'tis but the house, not Christobel, 
Yet, she ot the spirit cloth with us dwell. 
The earthy clay, which you have seen. 
Will hereafter appear just like a dream; 
The fantasy of a badly disordered brain. 
The freakish imagination of one insane. 



"Christobel and I were Lovers true. 
Long years ago; and we never knew 
A care nor pain, and the wedding bells 
Tolled joyously in our old home dells. 
We were happy in each others love. 
And praised the Holy Father up above. 
For all of trie sweetness of physical lite. 
And the absence of every petty strife. 



"We bought the Island and built this home. 
Were living here happy and all alone. 
Till Christobel s soul crept out one day 
From me confines ot the mortal clay. 
And so. for a decade now or more 
She has nightly rambled the Island o er. 
Returning to the body oft and anon. 
Whilst I study the stiange phenomenon. 



"Silenty she stands by her own remains, 
Now freed from earthly aches and pains. 
And watches for hours in meditation deep. 
Her former self lying there fast asleep. 
For ten long years this vigil we ve kept 
And never to my knowledge have I slept; 
While I watch the lovelight in her eyes, 
As her spirit distains flight to Paradise 



"You Sir, alone, our secret know, 
Twas Christobel s spirit that disturbed you so. 
She followed your every step and glance. 
While I met you just by happenstance; 
And now, I command you to come and kneel 
At Christobel s shrine, and there to feel. 
The sanctity of a perfect Love, 
With Christobel and I and God above. 



He silently knelt at the foot of the shrine. 

With feelings anything but divine; 

And felt a presence, a touch, a feel 

That made his very senses reel. 

That filled his heart with an awful fear 

Of a tangible something, somewhere near, 

When the silence was broken, the terrible strain 

Relieved by a song with a sad refrain. 




Where sweet communion with Nature proves 
Her unseen spirit through Crystal moves 



And there, in the somber, stilly night, 

Three souls pleaded for respite; 

One for release from the mortal clay. 

And one for release from jeopardy. 

And the spirit, too, made its presence known. 

Throwing a spell over mat silent home; 

Offering a plea, unvoiced, but plain, 

For me lonely possessor of this domain. 



The shrine held his eye in hxed stare, 
When another phenomenon happened mere; 
The hall was filled with a hazy light, 
Dispelling the darkness of me night; 
Then came the strangest sound yet heard. 
Like the rustle of bed clothes being disturbed, 
A long drawn sigh; then a breath indrawn. 
As soft as the breaking of the dawn. 



On bended knees before the shrine. 
The stranger felt that a peace divine 
Had settled down o er the Island home, 
For all past sorrows to atone. 
Then rising they turned to the open door. 
And stranger than anything heretofore. 
The spirit stood in human semblance shaped 
By a strange unknown dictum of fate. 



There, at trie door of the fair maiden s room. 
But in clearest outline in the gloom. 
He traced the form that stilly lay. 
A perfection of beauty of mortal clay. 
They stood spell bound or entranced. 
Whilst moonbeams shimmered or danced 
In unchecked glances thru the form 
The spirit had chosen to adorn. 



The uncanny nature of the thing. 

The spirit whisper and murmuring. 

Indistinct at first and undefined. 

Like the soughing or sighing of the wind. 

But straining the ear for every sound. 

To solve the latest mystery found, 

The murmurings became distinct and clear. 

Then voicing words one could plainly hear. 



Soft and low came the message sweet: 
The life like iridescence seemed to greet 
The stranger with a friendly word. 
So clear as to be quite plainly heard: 
Stranger, leave this house of mine. 
And keep my secrets wholly thine. 
Remembering, at times, the greatest good. 
Comes from things least understood. 



Canst mou expect to come and learn 
The mystery for which even spirits yearn. 
The solemn secrets beyond me pall, 
That stills me heart, doth me soul enmrall? 
My mission, stranger, is to hover o er. 
To guard and protect bom Island and shore 
Unseen, Unknown, but forever near, 
| Working perfections of Happiness here. 

So go, stranger — keep me secret well. 

And woodland, shore and shady dell. 

And Island, all, shall Perfection know. 

As unborn generations come and go. 

For Christobel will as sponsor stand. 

For all who obey her one command. 

Trust to Christobel and me Island lore. 

And Happiness shall reign on Island and shore. 



t 



So me Island tradition bequeathing 
To a posterity, perhaps unbelieving. 
The Love ot Christobel and me Myth, 
For future generations to conjure wim. 
For children s children for ever more. 
Who wander along Crystals lovely shore. 
To learn of Christobel and fondly dream 
Of me guardian angel, mere, unseen. 




Recollections of Crystal, my fondest dreams, 
A> memory pictures many delightful scenes. 



Now the Island story, as told to me. 
May not be true in its entirety; 
But yet there seems, to there abound, 
A lovely spirit, which hovers round. 
And watches o er this lovely retreat. 
Filling one s soul with blessings sweet; 
That brims the cup with nature s smile, 
/The weary and heartsick to beguile. 



FINIS 



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"Press of tb« Observer 
"Portland. - 3ttlcb,lg<m. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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018 394 002 8 



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